Bored. Bored bored bored bored bored. BORED.

What was the point of a task force with no tasks. Not that the Bauxite was keen on completing anything asked of it. But it wanted to be asked anyways! Otherwise what was even the point of doing anything, of using this stupid fake name and designation, trying to prove himself "worthy" to anyone but himself. He was Shepherd. He was BORN worthy.

All this to say that the Bauxite had spent most of its cycles decimating, or attempting to decimate, the local ecosystem. However, he was no cat, and stealth was a skill he'd been forced to self-teach. The odds were not in his favour.

All he had was a target, and the general direction it might be.

Shepherd crouched down as low as possible, head and neck set horizontally - the odd position made his muscles ache. The added effort proved futile, though, as there was no sight or sign of his quarry. He began to growl, an awful churning sound, as he contemplated trying again.

He could give up, but he was hungry, and he hated napping on an empty stomach. That hate kept him in place, waiting for nothing in particular.

But it wasn't all for naught. The sound of stones scattering echoed from closer to Orion's cliffs somewhere to the Bauxite's right. It would take a bit of walking, but at least he hadn't lost all hope of a meal.

Those minutes of travel came and went. Now the Shepherd was staring upward at the rocky walls, waiting for movement. Somewhere above there was a creature, capable of some flight, scrabbling from ledge to ledge. Well, that's what he'd assumed. Right now he was waiting to be proven correct.

A shape slipped past the quartz ceiling, blocking the light. There. The Kyte was high above him, comfortable with the distance between it and whatever pink thing was waiting below.

More time was needed, unfortunately. Time spent finding a good hiding place, and staying as still as it could. So much effort for what would certainly be minimal return. Such is life.

Today was the day of being just competent enough to succeed.

There were little spaces available that would hide the Shepherd in his glorious entirety, forcing him to skulk further from his prey. Not ideal. Regardless, he found a boulder to crouch behind, shielding his more flamboyant colours from view.

Now it was time to wait, patiently, for something to happen. This wasn't, historically, the Buaxite's strong suit. It'd done some growing since the last hunt. Perhaps it'd learned some self-control in those cycles.

The Shepherd was still. The Shepherd was silent.

The Shepherd should really do this more often.

Slowly, the Kyte drifted downwards, non-committal but not anxious. It'd clearly assumed the Shepherd had moved off to prey on something larger, more significant and deserving. Unfortunately, there are no deers in Orion, and this was the best choice avaliable. Unless it wanted something capable of fighting back - it did not feel like getting mauled today.

There was no time like the present. The Bauxite burst into a gallop from behind the rock, claws slamming into the dirt as it closed the distance as fast as it could manage.

It was not really an ambush predator, mechanically speaking. It didn't have the lightning fast reflexes, the agility required to catch something faster off guard. It would really do better in Pegasus, where the deer could chased down and overpowered (barely). But that would require travel, and putting itself in a huge amount of danger for what was supposed to be an easy meal.

It was already spooking, scurrying back up the rock wall. It was getting away. It could NOT get away.

The Shepherd slammed itself against the rock, snapping and flailing its forelimbs, desperate to catch even a shred of its hide. No. No. NO.

A claw clipped a leg, causing the animal to slip by centimetres. But a second claw sunk in before it could recover, finding purchase and hooking inside its meat. The force behind the arm carried it further, slamming its head against the rock, splattering it red.

Driven frenzied by the chase and the sudden blood-scent, The Shepherd wasted no time in swallowing the Kyte whole. I will neither confirm nor deny if it was still alive for this. If it was, then it wouldn't really matter that much, would it?

The Shepherd nursed the bruising he'd acquired, brushing talons over the affected areas and hissing when it ached. No. It hadn't been worth it at all.

But he did note a pale shape amidst the rubble he'd created. A shining, tiny piece of Howlite. The Shepherd stretched downward, scooping up the gem in his palm. It buzzed warmly, pleasantly, like Orb-light on skin. He recalled a familiar sensation from the breastplate he'd secured from the dungeon - was this enchanted?

Eyes fixed on his new treasure, he made his way back home.

'Home.'

exit